


Affinity

by oneill



Category: GrimGrimoire
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:36:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneill/pseuds/oneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the fic_promptly prompt: Any, any, hot and cold</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affinity

The Sanctuaries that the imps summoned burned holes in the darkness. No matter how far away Lillet stood, no matter what else occupied her attention, she felt the very moment that golden eye slid open. An ardent burst of hell-borne might flooded her chest and fogged her mind. In that moment, she _wanted_. Anything would do, but blood would be best. Then the moment would pass, leaving her breathless, her cheeks feeling flushed.

"I think we'll need some obelisks," Lillet said as she gave herself a shake and eyed the dim flames of a distant guardian. "I want to keep Morning Star as strong as possible during the fight." She crouched to ground a Hades Gate rune.

Margarita peered over her shoulder, her fists clenched over her breast. "Are you sure about that, Lillet? You've already studied some advanced sorcery, right? I don't think you'll be able to use necromancy anymore."

"Really?" Lillet looked back in surprise. "Why not?"

"Eh? Don't you know? That's how magic works. You study all the basics until you find the one you're most suited to. Once you start to focus on a particular branch, the others get harder to use. You can still use the branch that's weak to your specialty if you train a lot." Margarita waved a hand around the sealed room, at the runes that lay scattered in the darkness. "That's why Professor Opalneria can use sorcery. You can also sort of manage the neutral one, but it's almost impossible to use the branch you're weak against."

"Well," Lillet said slowly, returning to her work, "I haven't gotten all _that_ far in studying sorcery. I think it'll be fine."

She finished drawing the rune, then summoned a few ghosts and directed them toward the next mana crystal. They floated past her on a breeze that smelled of rotting leaves and damp earth.

The ghosts drifted around the crystal, calling forth Sanctuary. As the leading spines of spectral wrought iron pierced through the stone floor, a chill washed over Lillet's skin: not the biting cold of a wintry day, but the leeching cold of a rain-drenched midnight, with no fire or shelter for miles. It seeped into the bones and brought a calming numbness, whispers of peace eternal. This, too, took her breath, though in a different way from the demonic Sanctuary. It required effort to remember that breath was life, and that life was still something she wanted.

"How can you stand it?" Margarita said. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and took a shivering step back toward the imps' Sanctuary. "I think I'm going to be sick. Don't you feel it, Lillet?"

"I do," Lillet said, reaching a hand toward the will-o'-the-wisps that danced around the translucent gravestones. Two of them drifted closer to alight on her fingertips. She watched them musingly. "It doesn't feel _bad_ , though. Just . . . I'm not sure how to explain it."

"Well, summoning the great star spirit is high-level magic for sure. If that doesn't lock you into a focus, nothing will."

Lillet undid the chain that bound the star spirit's grimoire and turned the first few pages. Her fingers moved reverently, touching the vellum as briefly as possible. Her thoughts were divided as she studied the rituals within.

She thought of chipper little homunculi, eager to see the world beyond their bottles. She thought of grimalkins, so fragile yet able to quell a rampaging dragon. She thought of dauntless unicorns and valiant phantoms, of all her familiars.

Her comrades.

Cloven feet clicked on the stones behind her, announcing a demon's approach. They moved so lightly on legs that seemed altogether too delicate to support them. "The waiting is tedious," the demon rumbled. He rested a heavy hand on Lillet's shoulder, mindful to keep his claws well away. "Let us to battle."

"I hate to agree with him, you know," said a bright voice from the shadows. A fairy fluttered over, an arrow nocked and waiting. "But I don't want to hang around this creepy room any longer than we have to. Hurry up and draw Her rune already."

Lillet nodded and said, "Right." Though she could not pretend to understand it, she felt a kinship with these otherworldly beings, as though she had been fighting by their sides for countless years, rather than just nine short days. It did not feel like the sort of bond that would break easily.

She drew her wand and etched another circle into the floor. Then she stood to begin weaving the Titania rune for the first time. (Was it the first time? It felt so familiar.) The rune slowly took form. Shimmers of green danced on the skulls and the brass candlesticks that adorned the sealed room.

"It'll be fine," Lillet said again, mostly to Margarita.


End file.
